The Sweenett Diaries
by unamuerte
Summary: Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett have their own secret diaries. Mrs Lovett's obsessed with finding love, and Sweeney's obsessed with revenge. But will either of them admit they might share something more than murder and meat pies? R and review!
1. A stinkin' day

**~The Sweenett Diaries~**

**A/N: Today I was wondering, as you do, what if Mr T and Mrs Lovett had kept separate journals? Apologies if this idea's been tried before, but I thought it would be something fun. Events take place Before the Judge is killed. Which means mostly everyone is still alive. Yay! Or not, depending on if you like Lucy…Grrrr.**

**Here we go!**

**Sunday, 24 May, 1846.**

**Mrs Lovett's Diary**

Today wos a stinkin' riot, it wos. The best trade in ages. Rip-roarin' sale of pies! Toby's stayed sober all day. Not a drop of Gin! I rewarded the lad with a big, juicy pie.

He doesn't 'ave ta know wot's in it.

As I wos sayin', if everythin's so good, why do I feel like someone's stolen me underwear and hung it up for all o' London Square ta see?

There you go again Nellie, lyin' to ya self. 'Course ya know. It's always the same flamin' reason. _Mr T._

But today's happenin' really takes the cake, wot I did. An' he 'ates me coz of it.

Mr T 'ates me.

Well, he 'ates everyone, but more than usual 'ate, if you get me drift. I'm so desperate, I dunno know what to do! I'm thinkin' o' closin' up shop on Monday. Go out tomorrow, get me 'ead cleared. Give 'im some space ta think.

Today's disasta went a little somethin' like this:

It wos late, I'm thinkin' a little after ten in the evenin'. We'd 'ad smashin' sales today, as I said, an' Mr T 'ad worked bloody 'ard in the parlor cuttin' them men.

I'd jus' finished up with the oven downstairs, an' 'ad Toby on cleanin' duty in the outdoor dinin' section. He's quick as a whistle, that boy, an' in no time 'e was done an' gone to bed.

Which left me alone downstairs. An' Mr T upstairs sittin' an' broodin' away in 'is Tonsorial Parlor. Usually 'e waited until all was silent with me downstairs, an' then 'e'd come down from the Palor, through my shop front, and up the back stairs to 'is upstairs room.

I dunno wot possessed me ta do it. It was downright stupid o' me. But I did it.

I'd finished cleanin' up, an' as I wos comin' up them oven stairs, I caught sight o' them upstairs steps. I dumped the bucket on the floor, not mindin' if a few soap suds slushed on the floor.

I wondered.

I never went up there much, only ta give 'im 'is breakfast, change 'is clothes an' sheets. An' never when 'e wasn't there. Mr Todd guarded 'is privacy like a bull dog. I knew 'e'd wanna kill me if 'e found me snoopin' up there through 'is things.

But like I said, I couldn't 'elp me self. I listened for footsteps from the parlor. Maybe he's asleep up there, I thought. 'e did that sometimes. Against my better judgement, I left the bucket and tip-toed up them stairs, as if I were expectin' Mr T to materialize on the top o' the stairs.

Only darkness was there.

I 'ad a lamp in me other hand, and opened 'is door to 'is room. O' course, I'd been there many times. But never alone. Nor in the dark. I swallowed, an' moved into the middle of the room, unsure of wot I was doin' there.

I cast me eye over the corner o' 'is crumpled bed, wonderin' 'ow he slept, for a man like tha' could never sleep easy.

I wos about to retreat, me the coward tha' I wos – when somethin' caught my eye.

*** * ***

**What does Mrs Lovett discover? Read on to find out!**


	2. A really stinkin' day

**A/N: You know you're Sweeney obsessed when you associate everything with him. Other Chicks by Ciara is on my itunes right now, and I keep thinking of this song from Mrs Lovett's P.O.V. Obessessed, I know, but it's part inspiration for what could be a longer fic.**

**Sunday 24th of May**

**Mrs Lovett's Diary**

I jus' 'ad to duck out an' check Toby. I wos wrong. He got stuck inta the Gin again. Wot Mr T said 'ad me so shaken I couldn't sleep alone tonight.

Yes, o'right, I'll admit. Maybe part o' me wos scared o' wot 'e could do to us.

I'm sittin' with Toby in me downstairs parlor, restin' in me easy chair. Anyway, on with me diary. It's the only thing that seems ta keep me sane nowadays.

*** * ***

Like I said before I interrupted me self, I wos searchin' for somethin' personal o' Mr T's.

Jus' like a regular thief, I wos.

It wos sittin' on 'is nightstand. O'right, I lied. It was in the second drawer. I pulled the drawer out, and rifled through his belongings. Wot was I lookin' for? Some part o' the loving Benjamin tha' wos now dead an' gone?

"Oh me Lord!" I swore, kneelin' down on them dusty floorboards. "It isn't! I can't be – "

I wos too surprised to finish me own sentence. _Mr Todd keeps a diary!_

An' me being a sticky-beak, I began readin' it. Well, the last page. I didn't 'ave time to read the whole thing!

The last entry was marked Saturday 23rd of May, 1846. That wos jus' yesterday!

"_Soon my vengeance will be complete. I will have my revenge satisfied, once and for all…"_

I skipped ahead two pages, since most of those pages were repeats of the same sentences, with lots of "blood," "vengeance," and "revenge" included.

Funnily enough, I couldn't find nothing about me, until –

"Hullo," I said to me self. "'ere we go."

"_If I have to hear that god-damned woman's awful voice ask me __one __more time if I need anything, I will be close to slitting Mrs Lovett's throat and spilling her innards all over the floor."_

I wos stung, and shuddered, wonderin' if it were right for me to read anymore.

But I did anyway.

"_She thinks to bring me to her world with cheery smiles and sunny breakfasts and outings. It won't work. What she fails to recognise is how __stupid __and __futile __her attempts are. For soon enough, I won't be here to hear them. I've slit enough throats to know how to cut my own. Soon enough, my dearest, loveliest Lucy, you and I will be together at last. Soon my love…."_

An' I dropped the book, jus' like that. And I ran down them stairs, poundin' like one of them exotic elephants. All I could think on at first was 'ow cruel Mr T was. I always known he was cold, but ta read it set down in words like that….it made me sick ta think on wot else 'ed written down.

"Mrs Lovett!" An' angry voice cut me down like bamboo.

It was Mr T, appearin' in me shop front. "What is that racket?" He demanded. "You woke me!"

"Ah, nothin' at all.." I tried not to glance upstairs.

He didn't believe me one bit.

He saw my wild face, an' ran upstairs as if 'e'd been expectin' me ta pull a stunt like this. It didn't take 'im more than a minute. He came boltin' back down them stairs, an' when I saw the fire in 'is face, I made ta run out the door.

"Oh no you don't Mrs Lovett." He grabbed the back of me 'air, an' jerked me backwards.

He 'ad one of 'is razors in 'is hands, predictably.

"So this is how you spend your time. Snooping around my things while I sleep?"

He wrenched the back of me 'ead back, an' I wos so sick with fright I couldn't say nothin' at all. "Keeping a tab on me Mrs Lovett? Scared I'm going to turn a screw loose?"

"It ain't like that!" I finally defended myself. Tho' 'e 'ad a point about loose screws.

Mr T had by now dropped the razor, an' twisted me arm back so's I couldn't move.

"I wos cleanin', an' me findin' it wos an accident! But please, Mr T," I said, pleadin' now, "you can't kill ya self! It won't bring Lucy back if ye do!"

That wosn't the right answer, cause the next second I felt him bendin' back me fingers most painful-like. "Don't you tell me how to mourn my wife!"

At last, he dropped me, an' I lay pantin' there on the floor. I must'a looked a pitiful sight.

"Touch my things again," he warned, "an' I'll murder both you an' the boy while you sleep."

An' then 'e left me. I wos so upset, I wos past the point of tears. I dunno if I'm talkin' nonsense, but that's 'ow empty I felt just then. Too dry for tears.

An' that's 'ow me stinkin' day went, an' why I can't face 'im tomorrow.

*** * ***

**What did you guys think? Be brutally honest! If you like it I'll extend it into a long fic.**


	3. Sweeney broods

**A/N: Thanks to Midna Hytwilian, SweeneyToddRocksMySocks and xoxLewrahxox for taking the time to review! You guys are my motivation! Especially thanks to Midna for giving me the idea to write diaries from Sweeney's P.O.V. It is, after all, called the Sweenett Diaries.**

**Monday 22 of June**

Sweeney Todd's Diary

Lucy, my love, do not think I have forgotten you.

Today is the first in a month since I have written to you. Until now, I could not bear it.

Mrs Lovett sullied these pages with her prying eyes, and I could not rest until I had torn out every page and begun again.

Now, my love, I will not abandon you until it is all over. Until I am lying in my grave beside you, I will not leave another day unspoken. I will always be with you.

Do not think I have abandoned you.

By day I may go by the name of Sweeney, but only you know I am still Benjamin. Each day I feel part of him…and part of you, slipping away.

What can I do, to bring you back to me?

Only the few sunny days here remind me of our first meeting, when you christened me. I am not ashamed to say you are my salvation – without your face lingering in the darkness each night I would long ago have resigned myself to the pits of hell.

I write by candlelight. It is very late, but you know I never sleep. Even when I was untouched by evil, I never slept. I was too busy watching you dearest. As foolish as it sounds, I could never believe you were mine. You did not seem to belong in London.

Even in our darkest days, when we thought you might die with child, the world never darkened you. You were drowning in pain, it seemed. There was so much blood, I believed that night we had entered hell. And yet you bore it all, for me.

"Joanna is a cheery name," you said to me, after the Inferno was over, and little Joanna survived the night.

But I was selfish. I had no eyes for Joanna. I only wanted you, and your shadowed face, to be washed clean and luminous again.

I would not touch the child, until I had washed you clean of blood. Then your blonde locks, spun from the very gold fire of the sun itself, shone under the candlelight once again.

"Ben, don't be selfish. I am certain I will live. Pick up our child!"

And I obeyed.

"Jo," I sang teasingly as I held our daughter above your head. "A strong manly name. This child will be a butcher when she is grown."

"You are cruel Ben," you whispered, still so weak. "She will be a Princess, and she will sing to all the handsome young men from her tower."

"My childish, dreaming wife," I said to you, kissing your fingers. And then the small, warm body, my strong Joanna, passed from me to you, and I felt her warmth slowly leave me as she nestled in her rightful place.

In your arms.

It was then I realised, my love, that things could never be quite the same between us. It would never be simply you in my arms, and I in yours.

It would be Joanna between us, and we would shield her from the world.

What foolish nursery rhymes we conjured, you and I. Two lambs believing we could conquer the forest on our own.

You must know, my Lucy that every day lost between us is being made up, as we speak.

For every wolf who thought it his right to violate the lamb, I have spilt his blood twice fold.

I cannot expect you to understand. But I know when we made our vows, that we swore to accept each other, whatever our failings.

I have forgiven you for taking yourself from me. It was not your choice to make: for that I forgive you. And you must forgive me also. But what must be done, will be done.

I have long given up hope of finding you in heaven. But we will meet together. And what place, what place it may be, we will put remembering past us.

You and I will wait together. It will not be cold. It will not be dark.

And if there is light at all, it will be your hair, shining enough for us both. Shining enough for the sun.

And we will wait, however long it takes, for Joanna to join us.

Wait my love –

I hear footsteps at my door.

*** * ***

It was the infamous Mrs Lovett, bringing me supper. Doesn't that woman know how much she disturbs us?

Do not worry my love – there is no need to be jealous. I have frightened her off.

I am the last person in London who could be loved – and love in return.

No, my love, loving is for the dead only. And for the living to mourn the dead.

Are you satisfied now dearest? Do you feel sufficiently cruel, now that you have stamped my hopes for another evening?

I long to see your face again in the darkness.

How is it the world is so grey, and you so light?

*** * ***

_***Awwww* I just want to comfort Sweeney. I don't know if I got his voice right. Let me know what you think!**_


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